Take Me Dancing
by Tawnykit
Summary: Firekeeper's first hint that humans might have something interesting to offer is when she learns to dance. This is a collection of short stories and drabbles relating to the theme of the roles that music and dancing plays in the characters' lives.
1. Beating Hearts

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Firekeeper_ saga. I am nothing more than a devoted fan who has fallen in love with the characters and is trying to express that with a poor tribute to Jane Lindskold's work. I also don't own the song "Stolen Car (Take Me Dancing)" by Sting because, well, I'm not Sting.

* * *

**Title:** Beating Hearts  
**Teaser: **Firekeeper had always loved to dance.  
**Character(s): **Firekeeper, Blind Seer, Race Forester  
**Rating: **K+  
**Length: **619 words  
**Notes: **I would like to state right now that I can't dance for beans. The only time I'm even halfway decent at it is when there are little arrows telling me what to do. So perhaps it seems odd that I would have so many plotbunnies – Royal or otherwise – that involve dancing. However, it's always fascinated me that Firekeeper, wolf woman extraordinaire, loves to dance so much. It seems somehow strange that she could enjoy something so very human, and yet it's entirely fitting at the same time. Following that thought, I wondered what other characters in the series would think of dancing, and the plotbunnies were on me faster than the yarimaimalon descended on Waln and company at the end of _Wolf Captured_. This is my way of humoring those story ideas. None are long enough to be a story of their own, so they'll be stowed here, drabbles and short one-shots, for your reading enjoyment. (Because this fandom is _way_ too small!) I really wanted to do Doc and Elise first, because I adore the both of them, but it's Firekeeper's series, so… (And don't worry; subsequent author's notes will be much shorter than this!)

* * *

From the first day Derian had started teaching her, Firekeeper had loved to dance.

It had been her first hint that humans might perhaps have something to offer that her wolf kin did not. While wolves did sing – for the hunt, for birth, or simply for the joy of singing – they had nothing that compared to _music_. While all creatures great and small danced in their own way, these "dances" were nothing like what humans did to the piping of a flute or the stroke of a drum. It was completely mind boggling for the wolfling, and well worth the stiff clothes and hours of tedium that humans insisted must accompany a ball.

As much as she both loved and hated these formal occasions, however, Firekeeper's favorite dances were the ones done outside of the ballroom. She had a distinct memory of one such time, one from long before they'd been taken to Liglim. It predated even New Kelvin and the Dragon of Despair.

It had been a brisk winter night on the Norwood Grant. The clouds above them had been heavy with snow, and the ground was hard beneath their feet. She and Blind Seer had joined Derian, Edlin, and Race Forester in one of the gardens.

A feeling of contented peace lay over the five. Firekeeper lay curled at Blind Seer's side, lazily dividing her attention between the comet overhead and her three friends working on their separate tasks. Derian sat hunched over a piece of tack, patiently rubbing leather polish into the already gleaming saddle. Edlin was fletching arrows, filling the night air with the sharp tang of the glue he used. Race had his whittling knife out and was working a block of wood down to a thin cylindrical shape.

Interested by this last, Firekeeper watched as, gradually, the woodsman transformed the block into what was obviously a pipe or flute of some kind. Finally, the master forester set aside his tools and blew a few experimental notes into his creation. He frowned, picked up the knife, and made a few minor adjustments. When he next tried the notes, he appeared satisfied.

"Play something, Race," Firekeeper said. When he glanced at her, she shrugged and freed an arm from Blind Seer's ruff to gesture around them. "Is good night for music."

"Did you have anything particular in mind?" he asked.

She shook her head. Race paused, thinking, then raised his instrument to his lips and began to play.

Firekeeper settled back against her packmate's flank, listening to the tune. It was a soft, soothing sound, yet somehow sad, and the wolf woman closed her eyes, feeling herself lulled to sleep.

Before she had fully drifted off, the piece had ended, and Race was switching to a quick, lively tune. Opening her eyes again, she found one foot subconsciously keeping time to the pipe's soaring notes. Suddenly wide awake, Firekeeper rose to her feet and started to dance.

There were no strict rules governing her movements, no formal patterns or courtly manners that needed to be observed here. Her movements were wild and free, whirling, twirling, falling, leaping, answering the music's call. Dimly, she was aware that a grinning Derian had glanced up from his saddle, and that Edlin had set aside his work to watch her, but if they said anything, so lost was she that she didn't hear.

She did, however, hear it when Blind Seer spoke.

"_Dear heart, what are you doing?"_ he asked, lazily flipping his tail out of her way.

"_I am dancing," _she replied simply. A few heartbeats later, the great wolf yawned and climbed to his feet.

He joined her in the dance, and their hearts beat as one.


	2. Fierce Joy in Flight

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own _Firekeeper_, but neither do you!

**Title:** Fierce Joy in Flight  
**Teaser: **Elation had never understood Blind Seer's love for Firekeeper, until, one day, she did.  
**Character(s): **Elation, Derian Councilor  
**Rating: **K+  
**Length: **439 words  
**Notes: **Um. This is weird. And, well, weird. I place full blame on rabid plotbunnies. Or maybe jetlag. One of the two. Well, I like how it turned out, at least. Oh, and this takes place sometime before _Wolf Captured_, perhaps between the second and third books.

* * *

A romantic relationship between a human and a beast, even if that Beast was Royal, was an impossible dream. Such a pair would be kept apart from each other by the limitations of their bodies, for a wolf could no more mate with a human than a human could join a falcon in flight.

Elation knew this. That was why she could never understand Blind Seer and Firekeeper. Wolf and woman were more than just packmates, but the falcon knew that Firekeeper could never truly run with the wolves. The pair was a continual puzzlement for the falcon, and Elation was careful to study them whenever she could in hope of learning the answer.

It came to her one day as she rode the winds for the sheer joy of feeling the invisible currents under her feathers. Elation had always loved flying; she pitied her earth-bound friends for their inability to play in the sky. Firekeeper had once jokingly compared the way the falcon rode the rising air currents before diving to the ground and then rising again to a dance. Elation was forced to agree. As far as she knew, every species had some form of dancing, of moving their bodies and losing themselves to a rhythm either heard or imagined.

And so Elation danced. Rising, falling, spinning, turning, shrieking in exhilaration, all part of a music that only her ears could hear. It was here, as she lost herself to her emotions, that Elation finally understood.

The answer, when it came, wasn't what Elation had expected. No flash of insight or knowledgeable wisdom entered the falcon's mind. Instead, it was an image of fox-red hair, wonderfully soft when she ran her deadly beak gently through its tresses; of hands that could at one moment be occupied with the task of calming the horses he loved, and in the next be held out in a gesture of trust to provide a place for tired wings to perch.

Elation danced, and at last she understood.

Far below her, Derian Councilor couldn't help but smile to see his friend enjoying herself so thoroughly. He still, at times, found it disconcerting that animals could be as intelligent as humans, but he was slowly coming to terms with this fact. Seeing the falcon indulge herself in simple fun, as any of his human friends were apt to do, only served to further his belief that, in the end, a creature's species didn't really matter. It was the heart inside that counted.

Seeing the fox-haired man extend an arm to her, Elation pulled off one last loop and dove down to meet him.


	3. Unattainable

Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue.

**Title:** Unattainable  
**Teaser: **Edlin couldn't help loving her.  
**Character(s): **Edlin Norwood, Firekeeper  
**Rating: **K  
**Length:** 365 words  
**Notes: **Poor Edlin. I've always felt sorry for him. :-( Not sure what else to say about it, other than that there's more to him than meets the eye. Again, this would have to take place before _Wolf Captured_. (I haven't read _Wolf Hunting _yet. Woe.)

* * *

Edlin Norwood knew that he didn't stand a chance of being anything other than a friend in Firekeeper's eyes.

It wasn't just that she was his sister. She was only adopted, after all; it wouldn't be _real_ incest. It wasn't that Father would never approve. Why, Edlin could never decide whether it was Firekeeper or Edlin himself that caused more trouble for Norvin Norwood; it wasn't like a little more would hurt. It wasn't even that, as the heir to Norwood Grant, Edlin knew he had to marry to the advantage of his family and his people. Wouldn't Firekeeper's woodcraft and fighting skills do more for the Kestrel people than some pampered noble lady?

No, those weren't the reasons why Firekeeper could never be his. The sole reason was Firekeeper herself.

Many people thought that Edlin was a fool, good for entertaining parties and nothing else. The Lord Kestrel worked hard to keep up this façade, for he found people always revealed more around an idiot than a proud lord. In reality, Edlin was as sharp as a tack, a skilled woodsman, brilliant mapmaker, and master breeder of dogs. While his "sister" could out-track him any day, he was quite observant.

He could see how Firekeeper felt about Blind Seer.

Another man might have been insulted that the girl he loved preferred a wolf. Not Edlin. He accepted it as one of her wonderful quirks and left it at that. If Firekeeper wanted to love her closest companion, Edlin wouldn't hold it against her. It only hurt him that he couldn't help them be more than mere packmates, because above all, he wanted her to be happy. But Edlin was no sorcerer (thank the ancestors for_ that_!) and Firekeeper was trapped in a human body.

So Edlin would be content to watch her, to love her from afar, and to protect her in any way he could.

That didn't stop the ache in his heart, of course. Fortunately for him, Firekeeper loved to dance.

And so, with a courtly bow and a gallant (he hoped), "May I have this dance, Lady Blysse?" Edlin could, for a few short, blissful moments, allow himself to dream.


	4. The Dancer Healed

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

**Title:** The Dancer Healed  
**Teaser: **Toriovico was dancing.  
**Character(s): **Toriovico  
**Rating: **T  
**Length: **227 words  
**Notes: **For a man who spends most of his time in _The Dragon of Despair_ dancing, Toriovico was surprisingly difficult to write about. Actually, it's probably _because_ he spent so much time dancing that the words wouldn't come. I didn't want to write something that had already been written! Eek! Plagiarism! (hides under the bed) That's why this is so short – everything that needs to be said has already been written. (It's also why this tiny drabble took so long.) But one can't have a series about dancing without including Torio, so, enjoy!

* * *

There were times when he cursed the day that his brother had been killed, snatching away his dreams of becoming a professional dancer and landing him a player in a game he had never wanted to play.

There were times, when politics became enough to cause a pounding headache and he was lost to confusion, that he almost gave into despair.

There were times when the weight of the burden he was forced to bear in solitude, the secrets entrusted to him and him alone, made him sway toward the madness that his ancestor, the Third Healed One, had been lost to so many years before.

There were times when he woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, dreaming of a seductive enchantress with piercing blue eyes that could see into his soul, and of a mighty beast of lore that swooped in from the night with destruction in its wake.

There were times when he saw the pain of the world, the nobility of a dear friend wasting away to the ravages of time, and the destroyed innocence of a little girl shining citrine in the sunlight, and he thought his heart would split in two from the ache of his helplessness.

This was not one of those times. Toriovico was dancing, and, for a few short, fleeting moments, Toriovico was healed.


	5. Black Gloves

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Title:** Black Gloves  
**Teaser: **In the beginning, there was a dance, and from there it all spiraled downhill.  
**Character(s): **Waln Endbrook  
**Rating: **K+  
**Length: **192 words  
**Notes: **I was planning on going further than this, but I like that last line too well. Y'know, I _almost_ feel sorry for Waln, after what happens in _Wolf Captured_, but, well, I don't. (shrug) Anyway, Waln's thoughts on the thing that started it all...

* * *

It all started with a dance.

Well, that wasn't strictly accurate. Technically, it had started when the recently made Queen Valora of the Isles had lost her temper with her fellow monarchs, stolen those three cursed magical artifacts from the Bright Bay Royal Treasury, and then ordered Waln to find a way to make them work. Going even further back, it had _really_ started with King Tedric and the then Duke Allister Seagleam booting her off her royal throne and sending her running with her tail between her legs to her new, much smaller kingdom.

But Waln wasn't in the mood for paying attention to such nuances. For him, it had started with a dance. With a dance, and a little piece of paper slipped into black, lace-trimmed gloves.


	6. At First Sight

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

**Title:** At First Sight.  
**Teaser: **Shad had always been a fan of the color blue.  
**Characters: **Shad Oyster, Sapphire Shield  
**Rating:** K  
**Length: **308 words  
**Notes: **It should be illegal to have Writer's Block on a _drabble_, of all things. (sigh) Pardon the bad pun in the third paragraph. (sheepish smile) Also, it's been _ages_ since I've reread the first book, so pardon any minor inaccuracies.

* * *

Shad Oyster had always liked of the color blue.

Blue was the color of the sea on a clear day, when the winds filled his sails and the deck rocked gently beneath his feet. It was the color of the sky after a spring storm, when the air smelled clean and sweet and crew could finally relax after triumphing over their battle with nature. Blue invoked a feeling of peace in the young Bright Haven officer, something that he had come to relish in the hectic days leading up to their arrival in Hawk Haven.

The first time he saw Sapphire Shield, Shad was hooked.

She was dancing.

In retrospect, it hadn't been the _first_ time. He'd seen her ride in with the Hawk Haven royal procession, tall and proud astride her blue steed like a warrior maiden leading her troops into battle. Certainly, she'd been noticeable, but he'd been too busy just then to pay her much mind.

The evening of the ball, though . . .

She'd danced with strangers that night, and his eyes had seemed caught to her like a fish to her line, drawing him closer into her without even trying as her body moved delicately in the formal dance steps. He'd rather insulted his partner at the time, unfortunately, and had almost fallen over himself to ask her for the next dance.

This wasn't right, he'd thought as they circled each other, music swirling around them in delicate strains. He was engaged, had been for some time now. He shouldn't be falling in love with strange girls at parties, especially not ones as dangerous as Sapphire Shield was rumored to be.

But then, Father _had_ said to be kind to the other prospective heirs to the Hawk Haven throne. That being the case . . .

Perhaps . . . _one _more dance wouldn't hurt.


	7. Pomp and Frippery

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters

**Title:** Pomp and Frippery  
**Teaser: **King Tedric was old.  
**Characters: **King Tedric  
**Rating: **K  
**Length: **482 words  
**Notes: **I've only just started rereading _Firekeeper_ after acquiring the last two books last Christmas. (School keeps trying to steal my soul, so I've very little time for free reading. Woe.) I'm pleased to announce that I have several fresh ideas for the series! For this one, I didn't have any particular time in mind – just anything after the series starts would work, so take your pick.

* * *

Tedric Eagle, King of Hawk Haven, Knight of the Order of the Eight-Rayed Star, and all manner of other unzoranic nonsense, was very, very old.

Time had drawn lines in the monarch's face, had transformed his once-strong body into a frail, stooped imitation of his former glory. He was fragile now, and ever so weak, and he was forced to listen to his doctors rather more often than he would have liked.

Time had brought about other changes, as well.

Tedric was no longer the vain, arrogant ruler he had once been. Time had given him wisdom even as it weakened his body. The impulsive king who had disowned his own son was now the shrewd, wizened monarch of Hawk Haven who had long come to regret his many mistakes.

_Barden . . ._

But now was not the time to think of those mistakes, or to wonder if his father's support could have somehow kept the doomed prince and his comrades alive.

No, now was not the time for reminiscing. Old King Tedric tapped one frail leg in time to the buoyant music, studying the colorful figures below him as they twirled around the dance floor.

Ah, young people. Tedric watched in amusement as his youthful courtiers frolicked exuberantly about below him. Their older relations, parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, stepped in time to the dance with practiced eased, but they could never outmatch their children in enthusiasm.

There had been a time, not so long ago, even, when Tedric, too, would have joined them in the dance. In his youth, the king had pranced about with the best of them. But all that was long past. Now, he was grudgingly permitted to participate in the first and last dances, and spent most of the rest of the time sitting on his throne, watching his courtiers and ruminating on the vast mysteries of kinghood. Anything more and his doctors would yell at him.

But there he was reminiscing again, and Tedric took a sip of the medicinal tea he took with him everywhere these days, clearing his thoughts. The night, too, was growing old, and the ball was winding down. The minstrels were positioning themselves for the last dance, and Tedric rose to his feet, waving away the help of the dozens who, vulture-like, had managed to position themselves near their king.

Tedric Eagle was very, very old. He had made many mistakes in his long life, and, fortunately, he had learned a great deal. As tiring as the constant political infighting of his court could be, Tedric was not above ruffling a few feathers. So it was that he made his way through the throng of courtiers to find one of his favorite dance partners.

"Ah, Lady Blysse. I thought I saw you amongst all this pomp and frippery. Might you be willing to grace your old king with this last dance?"


	8. After Lessons

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

**Title:** After Lessons  
**Teaser: **Tamara didn't like her memories of before Bardenville.  
**Characters: **Tamara Gardener, Blysse Norwood  
**Rating: **K  
**Length: **495 words  
**Notes: **Almost lost the dancing part here, but I think I managed to work it in at the very end. Ah, well. I like it, all the same.

* * *

Sweet Eirene had let them out early today, giving into her husband's gentle teasings and the children's longing glances outdoors. Grateful to be free of their lessons, the little girls hurried out of the cabin, ever in wonder of the warm sun above them and vast reaches of the wilderness that surrounded their home.

"This way, Tamara!" Blysse called, leading the way to their favorite playfield, where the grass was long and hidden insects chirped a peaceful song. Giggling, Tamara ran after her, feet slapping against the ground.

Tamara could remember, very vaguely, a time when they had not lived in Bardenville. It seemed a little impossible for her to believe, but she knew that the shadowy visions that passed before her eyes whenever the grownups spoke of The East were, in fact, memories. Tamara did not like these memories. Their colors were muted, the sounds loud and clamorous, and they smelled _terrible_! She had heard Barden refer to this place-that–used–to–be-home as "Eagle's Nest," but she thought he was probably wrong about that. There were no eagles in those ugly memories of hers.

Tamara knew eagles, or at least she had seen them before. They never came right up to her, as the wolves and their fuzzy puppies would do when her mother or father walked with her in the woods, but she frequently saw them flying in the sky over Bardenville. _Soaring_, Barden had called it, and Tamara looked to the sky now to see if anyone was watching them.

The little girl beamed at the huge bird that _soared_ through the clear blue sky, and she gave it a cheerful wave. She didn't think it waved back, but then, it was probably very busy. Tamara was used to busy people ignoring her – they were all over Bardenville, building homes, planting crops, and exploring the wilderness. In fact, she liked it when they ignored her; if they didn't, it was usually to give her work to do, too!

They had reached the playfield now, and Tamara slowed to a stop behind her friend. The grass was brown and dry beneath their feet. Tamara wrinkled her nose; she much preferred the soft green grass to this scratchy stuff! Would the green grass come back when it rained?

But this did not deter her long. Soon she and Blysse were running back and forth across their sheltered little field, playing their favorite games and reveling in the freedom of youth.

Finally, Tamara reached over and grabbed her friend's arms. "Spin with me, Blysse!"

Squealing with laughter, the little girls held each other's hands and spun around and around, dancing moves that only children can truly appreciate. The world blurred around them as the crickets kept time, until finally they collapsed to the ground, dizzy and exhausted, giggling to each other in delight. Impulsively, Blysse reached over and hugged the other girl, and Tamara returned the gesture happily.

It was good to have friends.


	9. Orange and Gold

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

**Title:** Orange and Gold  
**Teaser: **Stupid dragon.  
**Characters: **Citrine Shield, Toriovico, Grateful Peace  
**Rating: **T  
**Length: **1,465 words  
**Notes: **I'm still trying to focus on original writing, but I miss writing fanfic, so this is me trying to get back in the swing of things. It's more of a short story than a drabble, but eh, who's counting? It takes place sometime between the end of _The Dragon of Despair_ and Citrine's appearance in _Wolf's Blood_, so no spoilers unless you haven't read DoD yet. In which case, what are do you think you're doing reading fanfic? Go out and buy a copy of the book!

* * *

The woods were orange and gold in the autumn light. Sunshine faded gently past the trees to turn her hair the color of fire, shimmering as she shifted and turned in the clearing. Her feet shuffled through the carpet of leaves on the ground as she danced a slow, sad dance.

It was Toriovico who had taught Citrine to love dancing, to escape from the world in the power of movement and music. She'd been caught in a bit of a slump, to be honest, when Firekeeper and Edlin and the rest of her friends had returned home. True, Doc had stayed behind, and yes, she had Grateful Peace now, and, admittedly, she had no desire to return to Hawk Haven.

But still.

After a full week of moping – not _homesick_, certainly not, but definitely _friendsick_ – she had found herself unceremoniously summoned to a meeting with the Healed One. Grateful Peace had helped her to throw hasty paint onto her face, and she'd glared at him the entire time, certain that he knew what was going on and was simply refusing to tell her.

Which, actually, had been very close to the truth.

Grateful Peace had insisted on escorting her, despite her many protests that by now she _knew_ where the throne room was and, at nine years old, she didn't need him to hold her hand, _thankyouverymuch_.

So she was surprised when she found herself standing, not in the throne room, but in Toriovico's private dance studio.

The Healed One stood in the center, waiting for her with his hands behind his back, his face impassive. His lithe dancer's build was not dressed in traditional New Kelvinese robes and curly toed slippers, but in a simple tunic and pants, his feet bare.

Citrine glanced at Grateful Peace, wondering whether she should be alarmed. He had smiled at her, that gentle smile that she was growing to know and to love, and squeezed her shoulder.

"Have fun," he said, and then slipped out the door.

"Citrine," Torio had said, drawing her attention back to him. "I had the honor of witnessing one of your training sessions earlier this year, when you were practicing to be an autumn leaf in the Harvest Dance."

Citrine blushed, glad that he hadn't mentioned that she'd soon become so distracted with worrying about what her mother was doing that she'd been demoted to a dumpy apple handing out treats to the crowd.

Torio must have seen the blush, and he gave her a gentle smile. "Citrine," he said gently, "you're a lovely dancer."

And that was how it started, private lessons from the most important man in the country, soon intermixed with a dance class of children her own age. It took her mind off her old friends, eased the ache inside her caused by their absence and her mother's betrayal, helped her to truly _flourish_ in this new land she called home.

And now Citrine danced through the forest of orange and gold that matched her own coloring so perfectly. Her heart was heavy today, on this her tenth birthday.

It had been a good one, as birthdays went. Previous birthdays had been spent on the Shield Estate, fawned over by numerous family members, lavished in citrine-themed gifts, and unceremoniously dismissed by her mother at the end of the day. They were usually spent surrounded by people, but somehow that had never quite eased the ache of loneliness deep inside her. Instead, she had ignored it, focusing on the _presents_ and the _food_, and pretended to herself that all was well.

There were not so many gifts this time, nor quite so many people, but the ones who had shown were true friends. She rather thought it was one of her better birthdays, actually – a special dancing lesson with Toriovico, followed by a nice ride with Grateful Peace and dinner with the two of them and Doc.

And not nearly so much loneliness.

Firekeeper and her Hawk Haven friends hadn't been able to come, of course, but Citrine found that she didn't mind so much. She hadn't expected them to, really. They were probably off saving the world from a rampaging _manticore_ or something, after all.

The important part was that she _knew_ they loved her. Formal congratulations from Sapphire aside, she'd also gotten letters from Elise, Derian, and Edlin. Elise sent her love, not only to Citrine but also, she found out later to her delight, in a private letter that had arrived at the same time addressed to Doc.

Derian's letter had launched into detail about Firekeeper's latest exploits (something about chickens and a baron's formal ball). An attempt at, "keeping you entertained on your special day," he'd called it.

As for Edlin. _Well_. Edlin was Edlin.

Citrine had always gotten along well with her cousin, at least if one overlooked her unfortunate behavior around the Harvest Dance when she had been firmly under her mother's control. She smiled and shook her head as she remembered his letter. Ancestors bless him, had he _really_ said that to an earl's daughter?

"Good to see you smiling now," said a soft voice from the shadows beneath the trees. "You've been looking down all day."

Citrine jumped, startled, and spun around. The former Dragon's Eye smiled back at her, his one hand tucked into his robes.

She put her fists on her hips. "How do you _do_ that?" she asked, stomping her foot lightly in a mock pout. "I didn't even know you were there!"

"Long practice," Peace answered. "And you're getting quite good at it, yourself."

She gave him a wry grin. "I can never manage to sneak up on _you_."

He grinned back, eyes laughing, and replied, "Practice more."

"I was thinking about Edlin's letter," she said now, addressing his earlier statement. "I showed it to you, didn't I? He sends his love."

"Oh yes, I read it," he answered. "Only Edlin could manage to get himself into such a situation, and only Edlin could manage to escape unscathed. It's good to see you smiling," he repeated. "Birthdays are happy times."

The little girl's smile froze on her face, then faded away, and she whispered, "Not for_ you_."

That was the crux of the matter, right there, the ever present knowledge that had lurked in the back of her mind and kept this birthday from being perfect. Her eyes took in Peace's frail form and the lines that were already etched into his face. How could he keep going, knowing that each year he aged twice as fast as he should, that his lifetime was now half as long as it should be? How did he stay so strong?

Stupid dragon.

"Nonsense," Peace was saying now. "I shall age regardless of whether or not we celebrate it. We might as well have a party. It will remind us of the good things in life. Birthday things."

Citrine tried to smile for him. "Like cake?" she asked.

"Most definitely cake," he agreed. "And a whole feast to accompany it. And gifts, don't forget those."

"Presents!" she agreed. "And fancy clothes!"

"And bright decorations are a must."

"And colorful face paint!" Waving a hand at her own, knowing better than to touch. Then, shyly, "And spending time with your special people."

"Which is, of course, the best part of the day." Peace smiled and extended his hand. "And perhaps sharing a dance? One not quite so sad this time, I think."

Citrine swept up to him, taking his hand in her maimed one and leading him onto the natural dance floor provided by the clearing. Poor, wonderful man! This man who had become her true father, so much better than her biological one, cursed to so cruel a fate! How would she manage without him, without the one who had put her back together after her mother had broken her apart?

"Citrine," Peace said, squeezing her hand. "My dear, I am an old man, compared to you and your boundless youth." He squeezed her hand again, and his bright eyes caught and held hers from beneath his spectacles. "But I am not yet an _old_ man."

She blinked, studying the man who led her about the clearing. His feet were nimble beneath him, his grip on her hand strong, and suddenly she smiled, a real, _true_ smile, finally understanding.

He twirled her around, and Citrine, laughing, resumed their familiar banter, glad to have her new father in her life. She would treasure him for as long as she could, she realized, and when he was gone she would do him proud and stay as strong as he was teaching her to be.

After all, if _he_ wasn't afraid of some nameless day in the future, if _he _could accept his fate – well, why couldn't she?


End file.
